


Guilt

by there_must_be_a_lock



Series: Three(k)some Ficlets [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: But not exactly, Cheating, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lust Potion/Spell, Smut, Soulless Sam Winchester, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, because lust curse, dean gives permission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27456022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_must_be_a_lock/pseuds/there_must_be_a_lock
Summary: I squirmed and fisted my hands in the cheap motel duvet. Sam looked me up and down, smirking. It was the feral, sharp smile that I’d gotten a little too used to since his soul went M.I.A; he looked like he was mentally undressing me, and it usually pissed me off, but in that moment I couldn’t deny how much I liked it.“Look, dude, I know this is the sort of thing I shouldn’t be comfortable saying, but… there’s only one option here.” He paused again, wrinkling his nose expressively. “Quit the prim and proper shit, Dean, just let me get her off.”He listened for a minute while I waited, rubbing my thighs together, fighting the animalistic urge to spread my legs and beg. It was only getting worse; I could feel the curse clawing at my insides, winding me up with every labored breath.“Don’t worry, Dean, I got this,” Sam said into the phone. “You can clutch your pearls later. Yeah, okay. Bye.”
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You, Sam Winchester/Reader
Series: Three(k)some Ficlets [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2004706
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> Not a threesome, exactly. The prompt was: "May I pls request a Dean/Sam/reader threesome but one of them is remote in some way (left a note/on the phone/gave instructions)."

“Yeah, Dean, it’s bad,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “Like, she’s about to go sit on a fencepost bad.”

I squirmed and fisted my hands in the cheap motel duvet. Sam looked me up and down, smirking. It was the feral, sharp smile that I’d gotten a little too used to since his soul went M.I.A; he looked like he was mentally undressing me, and it usually pissed me off, but in that moment I couldn’t deny how much I liked it. 

“Look, dude, I know this is the sort of thing I _shouldn’t_ be comfortable saying, but… there’s only one option here.” He paused again, wrinkling his nose expressively. “Quit the prim and proper shit, Dean, just let me get her off.” 

He listened for a minute while I waited, rubbing my thighs together, fighting the animalistic urge to spread my legs and beg. It was only getting worse; I could feel the curse clawing at my insides, winding me up with every labored breath. 

“Don’t worry, Dean, I got this,” Sam said into the phone. “You can clutch your pearls later. Yeah, okay. Bye.” 

He strode over and passed me the phone before matter-of-factly popping the button of his jeans, and if it was physically possible for me to blush hotter, I would’ve. As it was, my entire body felt like a goddamn wildfire. 

“Hey, princess,” Dean said gruffly. I closed my eyes, basking in the warm familiar sound of his voice. “You okay with this? It’s just… I think it’ll be a good six hours, no matter how many fuckin’ traffic laws I break.” 

I still had my eyes squeezed shut, but I could feel the mattress dip as Sam sat down on the bed. 

“Can’t wait that long,” I whispered. “Can’t… fuck, Dean, I miss you so much.” 

“Yeah, you have no idea. This is so fuckin’...” He huffed out a breath. 

“Can you just… can you just talk to me for a minute?” I asked. 

I tried to wedge the cell phone between my shoulder and my ear as I fumbled with the button of my jeans. I heard a low chuckle and when I opened my eyes Sam was staring down at me, amused and unapologetic and totally naked. He batted my hands away and got my zipper down, and I closed my eyes again, listening to the staticky rush of Dean’s sigh, trying not to think about who was pulling my jeans off and settling between my legs. I still had my t-shirt on, and it felt like thick itchy wool on my oversensitized skin, but I couldn’t stand the idea of being stripped bare. 

“You gonna imagine it’s me?” Dean asked, low and growly and possessive. 

“Y — yeah.” I made a squeaky, strangled noise as Sam slid two fingers up into me without warning, but then I groaned at the tingling full-body shiver of relief, my voice loud and obscene before I bit down on the fleshy part of my palm in an effort to hold back. 

Sam started fucking me lazily with his fingers, thumb rubbing my clit every time he buried them in me, and I was trembling already, rocking my hips, trying to hold back a slutty moan. 

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Dean said roughly. 

“Yeah,” I whined, arching my back and seeing sparks behind my eyelids. “I — nnnnnnhhhh, fuck, Dean, I — I’m so close, this is crazy, I want — I wish it was you. I’m sorry, I can’t — can’t help it.” 

“Not your fault. Do whatever you gotta do, okay?” 

“‘Kay,” I breathed. 

“‘You gonna come for me? Let me hear you.” 

For a second I hovered on the brink, trembling and straining. 

Then I felt Sam shift, his tongue a soft smooth flicker as it curled between his fingers to taste me. I bit my lip so hard that tears stung my eyes. 

“You’re dripping all over the sheets,” Sam said, so quiet that I was sure Dean wouldn’t be able to hear it over my harsh breathing. “Making such a mess… _you’ll_ be a mess, too, by the time I’m done with you.” 

I groaned and arched up, coming with the sort of blackout intensity that felt like a free-fall, squeezing around Sam’s fingers over and over. 

There was a moment of breathtaking relief, as it started to fade. For a split-second I thought that was it; maybe that was enough. Then Sam’s calloused fingers dragged against something hot-sweet-sharp inside me, and that feverish desire was sparking up again, rising fast. I collected myself just enough to bring the phone to my ear. 

“I’m gonna hit the road,” Dean was saying, and I knew he was trying to sound nonchalant, but his voice was grim and unhappy. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? Love you.” 

“Love you, Dean,” I breathed. 

“Do what you need to do,” he echoed. 

I hung up, tossing the phone away like it had burned me, and let out a frustrated groan. Sam pulled away so that I could sit up and wrestle with my shirt. I felt so fucking empty, and the need to be touched was immediate and overwhelming. 

“Jesus,” Sam muttered. “This is gonna be a _thing_ for the two of you, huh?” 

I let out a strangled laugh, struggling with my bra. “You’re his brother. You don’t think this is a little fucked-up?” 

“Not really,” he said casually. As soon as I was naked he was crawling up my body, slinking gracefully, caging me in with all that lithe rippling muscle and smooth skin, and for a moment I just stared up at him, incapable of logic or guilt or anything other than _want_. He hovered over me, smirking. 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I accused, clenching around nothing and trying not to look down his body. 

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since I met you,” he said bluntly. “Are you really going to pretend you haven’t imagined it?” 

I shook my head stubbornly. “I’m in love with Dean.” 

“Didn’t say you weren’t,” he retorted. 

My heart was racing. Holding eye contact felt like having my body in an electrical socket. “God, you can’t be — you’re not Sam. You’re _not_.” 

He rolled his eyes. “If that’s what you want to tell yourself.” 

“Sam wouldn’t —” I choked out, but I couldn’t take it and I couldn’t lie any more. I couldn’t hold on to coherent thought with the desperate roaring heat under my skin, like some fierce primal scream was drowning out everything else in my head. 

I grabbed at his shoulders, dragging him down against me and hooking my legs around his waist, trying to rub myself against him. He chuckled and rolled his hips, letting me feel the thick length of his cock where it was trapped against my lower belly, and I whined shamelessly, feeling like I could come if he so much as brushed against my clit the right way. 

“If you’re so sure I’m not Sam, then what’s the problem?” he pointed out calmly. “One less thing to get hung up on, if I’m not his brother.” 

And I was pretty sure there was a problem with that logic, because I shouldn’t be this wet and eager for _anyone_ else, but I was done arguing. 

“Fuck me,” I snapped. “C’mon, just — I can’t, feel like I’m losing my fucking mind, just —” I reached down between us, shaky and uncoordinated, trying to get him inside me without putting any space between our bodies. 

He didn’t bother teasing anymore, just lined up, rubbing the head of his cock against my slick cunt, pressing in and sinking down. The sharp painful stretch of it registered along with the too-full toe-curling pleasure, splitting me open inch by inch until I wasn’t sure I could take any more. Then he snapped his hips forward the last inch, burying himself in me completely with this grinding, twisting thrust, _too_ _fucking_ _much_. 

“This isn’t how Dean fucks you, is it?” he asked, right up against my ear, hips circling, and for a moment the words didn’t make sense. 

I opened my mouth to tell him to stop talking, dimly aware that the mention of his brother should’ve made me uncomfortable, but instead what came out was a needy, blissed-out moan.

“Does that feel good?” 

“Yeah,” I gasped. 

“So stop wasting time thinking about Dean,” Sam snarled. 

“Don’t.” 

“Best thing about not having a soul? Not wasting time feeling guilty for taking what I want.” He punctuated the last word with a vicious twist of his hips, and electricity lanced up my spine. “Right now you just want someone to hold you down and fuck you until you can’t take it any more. You want it rough and hard and fucking _filthy_ , and you’re glad Dean isn’t here to see you begging like a whore… aren’t you?” 

“ _Yes_.” 

“You’re glad it’s me.” 

I knew it was fucked up and twisted and humiliating. I should’ve denied it. 

“Am I wrong?” he growled. “Look at me.” 

I tried to focus through the sting of sweat and the blurry haze of endorphins. His lip curled, contemptuous, and there was a hard flinty glitter in his eyes, but he still looked so much like Sam that I forgot how to breathe. Sizzling pressure was rising in my core, building rapidly. I couldn’t think straight. 

“You’re… you’re not wrong,” I stammered. “Please. Please don’t stop. Feels so good, just — _Sam_.” I caught a glimpse of his fierce, satisfied smile. 

“Are you going to waste time feeling guilty?” he murmured, voice cracking. “Or are you going to take what you want?” 

_Enough_. 

I let out a low, desperate groan before surging up to kiss him, and he bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

“You _know_ what I want,” I whispered. “Shut the fuck up and give it to me.” 

I might not ever get the chance to do this again, after all. Might as well enjoy it while I could. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please leave a comment and let me know!
> 
> Feel free to find me on tumblr: @there-must-be-a-lock


End file.
